Take Me Away
by Emo-Pirate
Summary: When Harry wishes himself away, he finds himself in the realm of none other than our beloved fruity Goblin King himself.


Title: Take Me Away

Rating: eventually M

Pairing: Jareth x Harry

Summery: When Harry wishes himself away, he finds himself in the realm of none other than our beloved fruity goblin king himself.

Warning: male x male (no duh :P), adult themes

Ch 1:

Harry stumbled down an empty corridor back to Gryffindor Tower. He had a spectacular bruise on the side of his face, courtesy of his lover: one Draco Malfoy. Almost every night, Harry found himself shoved into the covers of Draco's bed, rutting like a couple of animals only to be shoved back into the cold corridor afterwards. Draco enjoyed it rough and never said a word to Harry outside of "My room, tonight", "strip" or "fuck". And for some odd reason, Harry did as he was told.

Was it that he loved the prat? Perhaps. There was certainly something about Draco that made Harry happy to take every smack to his rump or face as long as he got to touch the boy's flawless skin.

And yet Harry had never been more miserable. He had taken up several self destructive habits –everything from taking apart razors so as to use the sharp edge, to burning himself with the tip of his wand. Draco never seemed to notice the scars that went up and down Harry's arms and stomach.

Harry collapsed against a wall, curling his arms around his legs and burying his face in his knees. He felt tears coming and he sniffled, trying to will them back into his eyes even as they spilled over to drip to the stone floor. He wished he could escape, to just LEAVE this place behind. "I wish I wasn't here." He sniffled, "I wish someone would take me away from here."

A pale barn owl clattered its claws against the dark window. Harry felt cold air on his bare arms as the window banged open. A pair of shiny black boots came into the block of stone in front of Harry's worn trainers. Harry looked up suddenly, a gasp on his lips. Standing in front of him was the most fascinating man he had ever seen.

His face was ageless, mismatched blue and brown glittering eyes beneath highly arched brows. His long hair was blonde, a warmer blonde than Draco's, and rather spiky. He wore high black boots and a structured jacket, like a militiaman's. He bent down at the waist the Harry and held out one velvet gloved hand. "Your wish is my command."

And with that, Harry fainted.

Ch 2.

The first thing Harry was aware of was how warm it was. He felt warm soft covers all around him. He moaned, turning about and burying his face into the aromatic pillows. They smelled of jasmine and sage and leather. Then he felt someone stroking his head. He practically purred. The person stroking his hair had large soft hands. Presently, Harry became curious about just where he was and who it was stroking his head.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked, dazzled by yellow sunlight streaming through stone windows. He furrowed his brows as the world came into focus. He was staring at the pleated fabric nestled over a sun-kissed chest. An amulet rested on the wide chest. Harry followed the chain up till it was lost in long golden hair. Harry's eyes kept going up till his eyes met with glittering mismatched orbs in a strange, ageless face. It was the face from before. It was his hand that had been stroking Harry's head. Those beguiling eyes held Harry in perfect silence. The strange man opened his mouth, giving Harry a peak at the man's slightly crooked teeth.

"Good morning." Said the man simply. It was as if those words broke the spell that kept Harry silent. With a quiet shriek, Harry propelled himself backwards away from the man. The man's eyes widened, "Harry look out!" he held out a hand to catch Harry but too late! With a crash, Harry slid head first off of the striped bed. The odd man chuckled, crawling across the bed to peer at the tangle of limbs that was Harry Potter. Harry sat on the floor, rubbing the top of his head. Harry looked up at him, green eyes oddly bright in the yellow sunshine streaming through the windows. The man held out his hand and helped Harry back onto the bed. "Let's have a look." The man pulled Harry's head towards him and examined the spot on the top of Harry's head where he had smacked it against the stone floor.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, wincing as the man poked and prodded his head. "Ow!" he exclaimed as those long fingers poked a particularly sensitive spot.

"I'm sorry." The man smiled and kissed the top of Harry's head, inhaling the scent of his hair. "My name is Jareth." He patted Harry's head and sat back on the bed, looking at the youth.

"Jareth." Harry tried the name out on his tongue. A smile spread across his mouth. "I like that name. It suits you."

Jareth smiled back and then took Harry's face between his large hands. "I like your name, dear Harry." He pressed his lips to Harry's, loving the way Harry's entire body froze and his face flamed with heat. "My Harry."

"'My Harry'?" Harry gasped, too shocked to even consider how those lips felt on his.

Jareth grinned, his mismatched eyes twinkling. "My Harry." He repeated. "All mine."


End file.
